He Sails the Seven Seas
by FimbulvetrIce
Summary: Arthur Kirkland finds himself detaining a god-awful Spaniard on his ship as a prisoner of battle. And the pirate captain would never give up the sea, but Antonio knew he wanted something more from life. AU, Pirate!Arthur and SeaCaptain!Antonio friendship.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia or the characters or any countries. I don't even own any pirate paraphernalia, even ifI _wish_ I did.

**Summary:** Because the pirate captain would never give up the sea, but Antonio knew he wanted something more from life. AU, Pirate!Arthur and SeaCaptain!Antonio friendship, some background Spamano and USUK.

**Rating:** T because of the BOOZE because they're pirates, and…that's pretty much it. Human names are used.

Are you surprised that I'm not dead? It's been what, two, three years? I don't even know anymore. Anyway, I've had this sitting on my computer for a while...I wanted to finish writing it before I posted it so I could go over the final product and comb through it and stuff, but it was dragging on for too long. I decided to put this first part up for now. It will likely be a two-shot.

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* * *

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He Sails the Seven Seas

_By FimbulvetrIce_

Captain Kirkland inhaled the air around him and breathed it out, sighing. It tasted of the ocean, slightly salty and moist. Wind whipped his hair around his face as he steered his trusty ship faster. Further. Anything to distance himself from that bloody Spaniard.

The mere thought of the buoyant, green-eyed sea captain made him drop his glass of rum, shattering glass onto the deck. He let out a string of expletives.

"You know, you should really stop drinking so much."

The pirate captain gave another curse before turning around to face the person the voice belonged to. It was Gilbert, his first mate. He gave him an irritated look. "Bollocks, like you can talk, Gil. You drink more than I do."

The albino smirked, serving only to annoy Arthur further. "Maybe, but at least I can hold my rum. Look, you're already getting tipsy."

"Am not," the captain snapped. Gilbert's voice was getting increasingly annoying. Actually scratch that, the whole world was annoying right now. In fact he fancied that maybe, right now, everything was how it was _just_ so it could annoy him. And it wasn't because he was tipsy. He wasn't bloody tipsy.

"Yeah you are," Gilbert snickered. "Hey, how many fingers am I holding up?"

Arthur swatted the offending hand away and stormed off the deck. Or, he tried to storm off the deck. He ended up not quite getting all of himself through the door and crashed into the doorframe. In retaliation, he punched it.

"Bloody door."

His first mate apparently found this highly entertaining and was nearly cackling in mockery as he skipped—yes, skipped—over to pull his captain off of the floor. "You're definitely at least tipsy, if not drunk!"

"Shut _up_, Gilbert, or you'll be on cleaning duty for the rest of the week."

"Wow Artie, your captain habits can function even when you're drunk? That's friggin' hilarious!"

"_GIL—"_

But he never finished, because suddenly the world around him started spinning…and he fell into a deep, alcohol-induced slumber.

"Aw man, now I have to carry you to your room?" Gilbert looked down at him and despaired. "Maybe I can just leave him on the deck…" But after shuddering from thinking of what consequences he might get if his captain found that he had a cold when he woke up, he decided against it.

_

* * *

_

It was nighttime, and Arthur found himself walking along the streets of Almeria; they had landing on the coast of Spain a few days back. He entered a familiar inn, and was greeted with the usual loud cacophony of gruff people with raucous behavior.

_He made his way towards the only mostly-empty seat in the room and sat down, only to freeze upon seeing the other occupant._

"…_You," he growled._

_The other man seemed completely unaffected by his hostile greeting. "Oh, hey, Captain Kirkland right?" He gave a boisterous laugh. "Imagine seeing you again!"_

_Arthur just glared at him. "What are you doing here?"_

"_Eh? Well, I was staying in Almeria for a few days, figured I'd mingle with some people—"_

"_You know that's not what I mean," he interrupted. "I want to know why navy personnel would be in the local pirate's inn."_

_Captain Carriedo smiled. "Well you know it's not only pirates, there's also thieves, smugglers, runaways…"_

"_Cut the crap!"_

"_Oh, you're so coarse for an English gentleman. I just wanted to check it out, I'm not on military orders. Does that make you happy?"_

"_No. So are you going to arrest all these people now?"_

"_Are you kidding? There's gotta be at least fifty people in this room! I deal with military issues, not convicts."_

"_You've got a messed up sense of loyalty, then. And you're not going to try to turn me in?"_

_The Spaniard only took a chug out of his glass of beer and gave him a devious look. "I'm not an idiot, I'm not about to try take you out by myself. I've seen you fight."_

"_Could've fooled me," Arthur muttered under his breath._

"_What was that?" Captain Carriedo said teasingly, leaning toward him._

_Arthur responded by jabbing him in the chest. It was a decidedly childish move that disgusted him even as he did it, but it hadn't been the best day for him anyway. "I said you're a wanker."_

"_Am I now?"_

_It took all he had not to take out his sword and stab the stupid Spaniard._

_They sat in a silence that lasted for about as long as it took for fat kid to eat cake, or so it seemed to Arthur, before Captain Carriedo started talking again. _

_His voice was pensive. "You know, the first time I saw you taking out that guy in the bar in Gibraltar, I envied you."_

_The pirate threw him a look. "Well this is new, Mr. Nice Guy appreciates getting into a good fist-fight?"_

"_No," he said, shaking his head, "not that. I envy the freedom you have."_

_Arthur scoffed. "Yeah? Then be a pirate, don't join the military."_

_But the Spaniard just smiled like he had before. "I prefer not to get trouble with the law. Maybe being a pirate suits you. But I get the feeling you want more out of life."_

_For some inexplicable reason, his words made anger flare up in Arthur's mind. What right did some military dog have to try and explain his way of life? Abruptly, he stood up and glared hard at the Spanish captain. "You don't even know me," he ground out. "So don't think it's any of your business." He turned around and pushed his way out of the inn, place to stay be damned._

_The next morning, as he and his crew departed for the sea, they received news that the navy had sent Captain Carriedo's very own ship in pursuit of them._

* * *

"I really hate him."

Vash's expression didn't change as he gave Arthur some tonic. "Gilbert or Captain Carriedo?"

"Both of them," Arthur said stubbornly.

"I understand Gilbert, but what happened between you and Captain Carriedo and you anyway?" Vash was handing him his coat and hat now, as Arthur pushed himself off his bed and tried to ignore his headache. The Swiss was somewhat of a doctor on the ship, or at least the closest to a doctor that they had.

"_Nothing_." Arthur forcefully yanked his arms into his coat and shoved the feathered hat onto his head. To be honest, he didn't even know why he was so angered by that ridiculous, smiley, bright-eyed idiot. "_Nothing_ happened between me and that wanker."

"…Okay." Vash was unconvinced, as would anyone, but didn't really care about the captain of the Spanish fleet ship either way. Sure, their own pirate ship was being pursued by them at the very moment, but Vash's only concern was why Arthur wouldn't just let him bombard the boat with cannons already. It would make things so much easier, and it wasn't like Captain Carriedo would probably die, if his captain was even worried about that. Those nobles were like cockroaches anyway, with their lifeboats and their reinforcements. "Think we can out-sail them?"

Arthur climbed onto the deck and looked at the horizon, Vash following closely behind. He shook his head when he focused on the only other vessel on the sea in sight. "Pro'ly not. I'd give our ship a day or so, but then it'll be head on encounter."

"The _Albion_'s fast," Vash countered. "We could try losing them."

"So's Carriedo's _Castile. _Like I said, we'll have about a day or two 'til they catch up, and there aren't any landmasses in our vicinity."

The _Castile_ caught up quicker than even Arthur had anticipated. The next day, Gilbert had sounded the alarm and the pirate ship's crew scrambled onto the deck to see the grand navy ship not fifty feet away from them. The two huge ships faced each other menacingly, cannons ready to be fired. The air was still. Through his eyeglass Arthur could see Captain Carriedo on the bow of his ship, eyes trained on him. He had a determined look in his eyes, unlike the air-headed expressions Arthur had seen him wear previously.

Everything after that happened quickly. Blows were exchanged; ropes snapped, but no masts were broken and the hulls remained intact. Then Captain Carriedo had jumped onto the pirate ship to confront Arthur, who had swiftly turned to his gunman.

"We'll take Carriedo as our prisoner. Unleash the big cannons."

Vash easily complied, and the sky above of the ocean became painted with flames and smoke.

Arthur then turned and smirked easily at the sea captain, who was now trapped alone on the pirate ship. "Wrong move, hot shot," he drawled. To his surprise—no, annoyance—the Spaniard looked only resigned. Did he give up that quickly or did the idiot just not _care_? Annoyance quickly shifted into irritation.

"I thought you said you didn't deal with criminals," he spat.

All he got in response was a tired smile. "Yeah, I didn't really understand why they decided to send me after you either. Maybe they think you guys are a threat."

"Yo." Gilbert dropped in just then (literally, from the top of the mast). "We sunk the ship. But most of the crew got away, see." He gestured at the small lifeboats rowing away from the mass of smoking debris. Arthur's lips tightened into a tight line.

"Let them," he said. "'S not like they can turn around and retaliate now."

The albino shook his head and gave a dramatic sigh. "Aw, you're no fun when you're sober."

Arthur ignored him. "We're taking this guy prisoner. Take him to the lower decks." Gilbert immediately brightened and tied Captain Carriedo's wrists together with a length of rope that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. He led him down into the cabins, talking at him the whole while. Arthur followed them.

* * *

"You, know when you said lower decks, I thought you meant some kind of dank cell," Antonio said when he was introduced to his "prisoner quarters". It was a really a normal room, complete with a bed, desk and chair.

The lanky albino laughed. "We don't have those. Artie doesn't usually keep prisoners."

Captain Kirkland leveled his first mate with a look and snapped at him. "You can leave now, Gilbert."

Gilbert mock-saluted and walked out, leaving Antonio with the pirate captain. He looked closely at his new living space and sat down on the bed. It wasn't bad at all, and he wouldn't be surprised if the ship's crew all lived in similar quarters.

Kirkland watched him with his ever-present glare. Antonio might have chastised him, because he was surely going to get forehead wrinkles if he kept that up, but that would be making much too light of the situation. And then the pirate spoke, in voice that Antonio knew held an element of longing. He knew, because it was similar to his own. (He remembered pointing this out to the pirate when they had chanced upon each other in Almeria. Kirkland hadn't taken it kindly.)

"This is where you'll be staying," Kirkland said in a monotonously. "The bathroom is over there, someone will bring you food three times a day, and there's paper and pen in the desk if you seek to entertain yourself with writing. We won't be landing for at least month. You'll be here for a while."

"You're not going to kill me?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Just because we're pirates doesn't mean that all of us go around killing people when we feel like it. We're not like you nobles."

"Ouch. But you know, I don't like killing people either."

"Oh, how brilliant. We must have so much in common then," Arthur rolled his eyes, throwing Antonio's own phrase back at him. "Does that make you happy?"

"It does."

Arthur gave him an irritated look. "Stop talking, _Captain_ Carriedo. You're our prisoner, not a guest of honor." He turned around and walked out, slamming and locking the door.

Antonio studied the desk as he heard footsteps stalking away from his room. "Could have fooled me."


	2. Chapter 2

**I am…so sorry for the long wait (I have excuses, really). Because I also lied when I said it was going to a two-shot, and this isn't even the last chapter, and it's still ridiculously short. It's also not beta-ed. But here's part two. Next part will definitely be the last.**

**Also, if you haven't caught on yet, the point of view changes every time the line breaks. And I think the last chapter got rid of my line breaks, which makes me very upset. I'll change that sometime.**

* * *

He hadn't seen Lovi in over a year, not since the last time he'd set foot in Southern Italy. His mind, now given hours upon hours of idle time that he hadn't previously had, kept wandering back to his sunny home in that country and the adorable Italian still waiting for him, even if Lovino would never admit to it. With his military duties Antonio's visits had been far and few in between, and every time he had left the town feeling miserable.

He'd made up for the time apart by sending letters back whenever he could. Lovino wasn't able to reply to any of them since he never stayed in one place (and the Spaniard had a feeling that he wouldn't have written back anyway), but for Antonio, it was enough just to know that his own letters were received and read by Lovi in Italy.

Most of his time on the ship was spent writing letters with the stationary he'd been provided with. The chance that he'd be able to send them was slim, he knew, but old habits die hard…

_Dearest Lovi,_ he scripted, spelling out his name with a care that Lovino himself would definitely have mocked. Still, he couldn't help himself. The Italian never failed to bring out his inner sap.

_I'm sorry for not writing for so long. Have you been worrying about me? I know you have. I've been thinking about you as well. And don't believe anyone if they tell you I'm dead. I'm not, obviously. Did you think I'd let the sea take me away from you?_

It wasn't a military report. His writing didn't have to make any sense whatsoever, and he took advantage of the fact by writing sentences in the order of his thoughts. Lovi always understood him, anyway. Somehow…

_Captain Kirkland treats me kindly, even if you wouldn't be able to tell by the expressions he always wears. They're kind of like yours, it's cute._

_Though you're cuter._

He felt his lips stretch into a smile as he pictured Lovi's face, all red and furious, like it became every time Antonio said those words. Though, how could anyone expect him to not say it? It was true.

_I miss you. _

_But you know that._

He placed the quill back on the table and smiled wistfully. It was funny how the pirate captain visited him every day with his meals, almost as if he couldn't help himself, and they always ended up talking (even if only a few barbs were exchanged). Antonio would smile or laugh at him but he swore Captain Kirkland saw someone else whenever he did, and he'd always leave soon after.

Still, the pirate wasn't as toxic as he seemed. Antonio thought that, maybe, they could become friends if he tried hard enough.

There came three short knocks on the door. Oh, speak of the devil.

(And he shall appear?)

"Carriedo," the pirate captain's voice sounded, and Antonio turned in his chair just as the other man crossed the room to place a tray of food on his table.

"Kirkland," he responded just to piss him off, because he knew the other preferred to have a pretentious _"Captain"_ tacked on his name. Just as Lovi brought out his inner, cheesy romantic, the pirate seemed to bring out a more…mischievous side of him.

Sure enough, he saw the man's dark eyebrows furrow into a frown. He didn't say anything, however, and Antonio did a silent, absolutely pointless victory dance in his head.

"You are the worst prisoner I have ever seen."

Antonio chuckled. "Well, to be perfectly fair, you guys aren't exactly the most pirate-like pirates I've seen either."

"…What."

"I mean, you've never even taken prisoners before! The stories I've heard all tell of terrifying pirates who pillage towns, slaughter enemies, rape women—"

Captain Kirkland leveled him with very, very offended glare.

"—ahh, yeah, you get the point! But, uh, that's not to say that I expected you to be like that. You know. Ha ha..."

"I don't know how you've survived up until this point."

He grinned, looking for all the world like a self-satisfied cat who'd just been given free milk. "Maybe I keep getting lucky, meeting people like you."

"You don't even _know_ me," the pirate said, and did his eye just twitch?

"I know you well enough to know that you're not planning on killing me, O Pirate-Who-Values-the-Life-of-Their-Peons."

"I might be inclined to change my mind. Just for that."

"But you won't!"

"How do you even know that?"

"I don't!"

The pirate whose eye may or may have twitched again gave an exasperated sigh and started to walk out the door. "Hell if I know why I even bother with you."

Still, the conversations made them feel warm, and both of them knew it.

* * *

It had been days since Arthur had taken a prisoner on board. While he wasn't his first prisoner, for some reason he couldn't help but treat this one differently. What had started out as semi-serious banter had become something much more genuine; they had turned into something akin to conversations between friends.

How it had happened, he didn't know and hardly gave a damn.

The Spaniard's personality reminded Arthur too much of _him_ for his liking. And he didn't need this, didn't need a constant reminder of what he'd left behind in that provincial town so many years ago.

And dammit, he was drinking again.

"Hey," a voice prodded him as he sat slumped over a chair on the deck.

"Go 'way, Gilbert," he ground out. Gilbert didn't go away.

"Is that rum? Again, Artie?"

"You gon' tell me to prohibit alcohol on this ship, Gilbert? Why, I thought I'd never see the day."

"I meant it when I said you should stop drinking so much."

"So the kettle calls the pot black." Pfffffft. They were pirates. He knew of a few crews who were all inebriated day in and day out, pillaging and sailing under the influence 24-7.

The albino threw his hands in the air with an irritated groan. "At least I don't drink until I can't feel anything anymore! You're just running away!"

Gilbert had been the one person he had told, though the reason why he'd done so escaped him.

"Shut _up._" Any other man would have flinched from the dangerous tone in Arthur's voice. Gilbert knew he was treading on mines and kept walking anyway.

"Please don't treat me like that, Artie," he said in voice softer and more serious than he'd used in a long time. "You wouldn't have told me about anything if you were _fine_ about it like you always say you are."

Arthur remained silent.

"And Vash wouldn't say it if you asked, but he's worried about you too! We all are! You've been drinking yourself to sleep every day since that Spanish guy came aboard."

"Just…leave me alone, Gilbert."

"No, Artie. I'm you're first mate. And yeah I probably don't take that position seriously enough for you, but I'm also your friend! Aren't I your friend, Artie?"

"Go check on how dinner's coming along, Gilbert." For all the times he'd chastised him for his crazed antics, Arthur found he much preferred normal, obnoxious, self-centered Gilbert over this one. This Gilbert was too prying, too…knowing…no. He just knew Arthur too well.

His first mate (best friend?) stared at him for a few fleeting moments with an expression Arthur couldn't see, for he had turned his own face away to stare at rolling waves, and he eventually heard the other man's footsteps walking away and off the deck. He didn't take his eyes off the water.

At this time of day, the waves—which reflected the sky—were a dark and inky blue: safe.

There was one thing that Arthur would never forgive himself for, and it was the fact that _that person_ constantly plagued both his waking hours and his dreams, even now, no matter how hard he tried to forget. Because every time he gazed at a clear, blue sky, he was reminded of a pair of eyes the same shade that sparkled just so, someone with hair the color of sunshine and smiles and laughs and hugs just as warm.

He was still quite sober, really he was, but his vision had started to get blurry and it must have been raining because those could not be tears wetting his face.

The Spaniard's dinner was delivered by Vash that night.

* * *

"You've been ignoring me," was the first thing Antonio said when the pirate captain finally graced his room with his presence once more.

Arthur sniffed and sat down on the chair. "I didn't know I was obligated to pay visits to my prisoners.

"Well, Arthur, you and I both know how much like a prisoner you've been treating me so far." He wasn't sure when the pirate had ceased to be "Captain Kirkland" and become "Arthur" to him. But when the other man didn't raise a riot at being called by his first name, Antonio decided to take it as a go-ahead from there.

"What would you do if I released you?" Arthur inquired rather suddenly.

He laughed, although he knew that he probably should have taken the matter a little more seriously. "Well, the Spanish navy probably thinks I'm dead by now, and I don't think I'd be able to keep my position after such a failure anyway."

"Serves them right for sending only one ship against us."

Antonio laughed. "I think I would just like to sail down to Italy again and stay there instead. I have a nice tomato garden in Taranto, and Lovino's still waiting for me there."

"Lovino?"

"He's my…special person."

Arthur gave a slight smile. "Special person, huh…"

The Spaniard decided that he much preferred this facial expression to Arthur's many others of eternal irritation. "Do you have someone on land waiting for you, too?" he prodded, hoping to lighten the mood and almost regretting it immediately.

The smile disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by a frown, and the pirate shook his head. "No one's waiting for me on the land. Not anymore, I'm sure." When Antonio looked into the man's eyes, he thought he could see devastation as ghost swimming behind them. He wondered when he had learned to read the pirate so well.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Truly.

Arthur gave a huff and looked away. "Don't worry your little Spanish head about it. 'S got nothing to do with you."

Now, he had to argue with that. "I disagree, amigo. You should tell me about it."

For a long time, there was silence. Then, "His name was…Alfred."


End file.
